Mario Bauza/Lasana Kazembe
Argument with a Saxophone
they blew and blew and blew and blew
til they was blue
blue black from beats
born in on and for corners of nickel slicks
where they do funk and exorcisms
over cosmic eggs and sunday morning whispers
they do funk and exorcisms in 6/8
over spinning looms
spinning life to the living
to they who blew and blew
and wrapped their soul
around the fifth vertebrae of sweaty peasants
talking stuff to harem girls
they blew freedom and the architecture of abstract
to legions of hot ones
well done from tenor glazing and well done from
the ornate phrasing of spirits and polymorphs
they blew blue cool/blew beau cool
they blew ‘til they was blue
their lips were angry prunes rapping pain
meticulous tickles of brass breezes
sheets of sound in flatted fifths
e sharps and b sharps
and c sharps and d sharps and
their lips were angry prunes
bewitching stitching withered dream pieces
twitching the quietude of black intimates
juxtaposed moon fevers and swollen daydreams
their hair was dried raisins
standing in rigid formation in tight sheen
at the command of the unseen
a million and one dried raisins
sticky, staticky temples
freed from the obscene lies of texturizers
the hippest trip was two angry prunes
fighting a million and one dried raisins
fighting e sharps and c sharps
for articulation of a jazz mood
and these two blew liquid onyx with reed phonics
they blew affection and angry silk
blew and got it said
with brass utterances and fire notes
bones basted for the assumption
and they blew and blew and blew
they blew jubilee tales of baoulé and whatisnamenem
fingers etched nimbly along the golden pipe
advent for the sunlit in unlit catacombs
called la conga club
from hausaland to bauzáland
from brazzaville to cachaoville
sho nuff did they blew euphonic blasphemy
cascades of corner hustling
fire notes of black and the blue magic of matanzas
quarter halves and dulce in six eight
they blew delectable cherries and oil smoke
to answer the arguments of intellectuals in short dresses
sporting cheyenne smiles and latin tinge
they blew bluetrality
conjunction and cadence
they blew chains off ankles and brains
they blew greens at the chicken shack
arroz y tiempo and the gratitude of fools
hey blew funk and pain
all motion was born under the first law
all order was born under the second law
the first law was for the wind
the second law like unto it
was for they who blew
and blew and blew and
blew and blew
and blew
and
blew
AfroCubano
this music was born in the blood
of drum chants and spirit food found
in sunlight basting flowers and foreheads
of creation people speaking
in cowbell and congo cosmogram
this music is the mystery child of field hollers
and interlocking tropical dependency
the weaving of gentle smoke wafts
sapele reeds and cassava seeds rattled
against the wooden stomachs of dry gourds
hue man music set against the velveteen
of black forest and bembe circles
this music is vodun vodou hand claps
cresting above the hollowed staccato
of pork and rum barrels
the sweet noise of ifa and the mystic dance
of wind and time whistling through
cane fields of restless memory this
music is dunham’s singing gods
tricksters and spirit jumpers in three two
clak-‐clak-‐clak clak-‐clak
clak-‐clak-‐clak clak-‐clak
the pulse of goosebumps and foot fever
stirrings in the centers of calico souls the
presaging of spirit gods
vengeful happy keeping time for
war, courtship, remembrance
this music is the music of deep fissures
and the pressure of the prologue of centuries
the fateful fusion of tears and blood
and ecstasy cries of egungun and black seafarers
this music marks the interpolation
of ox horns and stacy adams
godfathers and godmothers fled the enconmienda
for congo square and the royal roost
new arrival of tito chico miguelito
papalitos sporting stingy brims
thick and thin see through socks drooping
as they conjured dance magic in 6/8
over flocks of flacas and tender succubae
over sweaty full-‐figured mamacitas
the look of love in their eyes mambo y tiempo
rippling through they butter crème thighs
this music is hybrid and anti-‐conquistador
offspring sprung from chano pozo, machito
and his afrocubanos
this music the amalgam of obas and factory workers
of seamstresses and draymen
this music is written in the red oil
of native sons and daughters scions
of sacred and secret messages rituals
and ringshouts
from the machinery at the center of time
born in the blood of drum chants and spirit food
basting flowers and foreheads
of creation people
speaking speaking
El Matrimonio
they say the love affair was nature born
in the tension of a 2-‐3/3-‐2 attack pulse
they say the love affair began overseas in the grist
in the gris-‐gris and physiography of forest dwellers
their ears pressed up ‘gainst sweaty bark of treefalls and triple blackness
culling elite nectar
from the rhythm of the stories in their hearts crossing
crisscrossing hard-‐to-‐get-‐across streambeds and cataracts
perfect spiraling through lush dream canopy and low swung leaf carpet
ituri forest rhythms as ancient as twilight as brilliant and serious
as sirius and the syncopated telling of folktales of longing
they say el matrimonio crisscrossed seas and middle passaged
as it curated in the delectable corpus of shiny captives
who took (as they were taken) their uh-‐uhs and uhh-‐huhs
and oh-‐ohs middle passaged with them within them
they say el matrimonio continued underseas
unabated in the marrow of mahogany tomorrow people
beshackled and bought wholesale from barracoons
belly-‐fed to tiburons and great whites
by lesser whites strung out, cockeyed, and long in the tooth
mahogany tomorrow people with dark eyes tooken westerly
the nectar of their stellar rhythms inculcated in sinews and dna
incubated in the warm womb of the land of sunshine and machete
caciques and maroons blending terms and tempos at twilight
over steaming claypots of moors and christians
conjoining in the soul of sweet yuca roots reaching deep deep deep
into that shiny black earth we called hell and home in tandem
they say this marriage was arranged
this alchemy of sprits of multicolors and polyrhythms
batá, clave, and cow skin catchphrases calling across green seas
ponchando meets mambo and the abakuá storychants
of ellis island émigrés from sierra maestro by way of el mina
and came he that small darkman of creation
congas, bongos, timables in tow
small darkman from the yambú land
small darkman in constant communal
weaving rich ancestor tribunal to yemaja
tangled textured layers of complex sounds
brass and wood bongocero and batán rhythms
born and bathed in the blood and bellyfire of runaways and captives
arrived he conferring richness of mambo ethos
to the bronzed apple of dizzy and webb
to the baked apple of cab and ella arrived he
to the apple of everything in between that be’d and bopped
bowed he proud darkman in the shadowed lights of the palladium
green pleated guayabera fedora soul patch gingerman grin
small darkman doing jazz incantation with orisxas and half notes
over the contested memory of slave labor and salt water negroes
pantheon of peppery haints of la regla de ocha
arrived he small darkman from the yambú land
boasting africa unmistakably in his nostrils and veins
adobo via africa undergirding the strain of colors
in his talk and tanga and tin tin deo
in his talk and tanga and tin tin deo
tackling time and tickling the toes
of africanos y cubanos y non from cali to key west
small darkman from the yambú land
performing ceremonies of marriage and birth
two thousand seasons of sine qua non
telling retelling foretelling storied tales
of paupers and peanut vendors
of the people who be them people
darkpeople from the yambú land
of sun and soul patch and postiche
they say el matrimonio
is like forever being born